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Thursday, 14 June 2012

Staring in the Face of the Ben

Tower Ridge scramble, Ben Nevis

The North Face of
Ben Nevis holds a special place in mountaineering history. The Gaelic name ‘Ben Nevis’ can translate as ‘venomous mountain’. On a
club trip in February last year I first laid eyes on the 700 metre high icy
cliffs, etched with jagged buttresses and snow gullies. It’s exhilarating to
see; the granite rock offers years of climbing potential. Yet the north face also
has a menacing side, of storms and avalanche, which threatens any mountaineer.
I was captured.

I returned to the Mecca of Scottish climbing in June. It was
Oli’s idea to have a go at Tower Ridge: 600 metres of 3 star Diff climbing.
Since I hadn’t been to the summit of the Ben before, it seemed like the right way
to get there. After light Googling it was obvious that Tower Ridge was a
mountaineering classic. The word classic is overused, but Tower Ridge certainly
is one. It’s big and it looks like the schizz. Yet, with limited multi-pitch
experience and having never properly climbed with Oli before, I was unsure of
my own ability, and his. The guidebook I’d borrowed from the library (‘The
Hillwalker’s Guide to Mountaineering’), made out that the route was a
formidable challenge (similar words were used repeatedly); emphasising that a
successful attempt on the ridge would require huge amounts of background preparation.
We hadn’t done any.

Bombing up from the North Face car park

So, it was a relief to find out at the CIC hut that we’d
left this guidebook in the car, since it was full of more words like ‘immense’
and ‘difficulty’. Some finger-pointing occurred, but I refused to take blame
for such a mishap. There was now the issue of trying to route-find along the
entire ridge, but in many ways it made our ascent more authentic. Follow the
easy line and the polish (not the Eastern European type) and you can’t go
wrong. Or so I thought.

Gearing up at the CIC hut

On leaving the CIC hut, Oli, Charlie and I followed a guide
and his clients (!) around the base of the Douglas Boulder, an unmistakable hunk
of rock below the North Face (with good climbs on it). We were headed for the
Douglas Gap, the notch just behind the boulder, which marks the start of Tower
Ridge. After hiking up grassy terraces and onto scree, we roped up and took coils,
now plodding upwards tied together, no more than two metres apart. It’s a short
scramble up a chossy gully to reach Tower Gap. Where we stood felt airy and the
view from the gap was steep, so the less time spent gazing at the rocks below,
the better. Pitching out of the gap on a comfortable Diff climb (10m), we got
onto the ridge proper. From here it’s a great mix of walking and easy
scrambling – with enough time to gawp at the granite walls surrounding you.
Genuinely, the view is spectacular.

After lunch, we were moving together well. Oli used natural
protection, which abounds, and popped in runners when there wasn’t any. Our
luck ran out as we veered off route, on the east edge of Tower Ridge. The ledge
became narrow and everything was worryingly loose. Clearly, people had been
here before, I’d seen a few crampon scratches and bits of polish earlier, but I
wondered if they’d gone off-route, like us. Our route came to an end here;
maybe they had as well. Trying to correct ourselves, I lead a nasty pitch up
and out of sight, looking for a way back to the spine of the ridge. The
exposure was not frightening, but it was real. I put my rock shoes on in case
of any technical stuff, and it paid off with moves that needed a large stretch
onto questionable holds. Oli, who’s slightly shorter than me and Charlie,
complained about the sequence, needing the skills of a Chinese gymnast at this
point for an easy traverse. Following lots of swearing and teamwork, which I
find go hand in hand, we were on route again, making swift progress towards Great
Tower.

Opting for Howard’s Chimney on the east side, we quickly skirted
around Great Tower (a prominent knuckle on the ridge, which needs pitching). Shuffling
up the chimney can be made easier if there are snow steps, depending on the
time of year. From there it’s on towards the Gap.

Charlie's Chinese impressions and some bad flatulence enhanced the banter

Arguably the crux of the day, Tower Gap is a notch high up
along the ridge - demanding big moves climbing into the gap and across to the
other side. It’s made safe with some tat to clip into. Pitching
this section, I teetered across a narrow walkway of granite blocks and peered over. The sense of exposure was probably extreme, but I didn’t have
time to think about it, keeping focussed. I used hand and foot jams in a crack running down
the edge of the gap, when I realised I was climbing into space. It felt lofty up
there - I later read that the drop below was almost 200m. Thank god I didn’t
look down. I traversed back into the gap and clipped in a runner. Now feeling
pretty good, it was a straight forward jump across and back out the
other side. Ignoring some belay faff that came afterwards, leading across the
gap was a real highlight. At Tower Gap, you’re immersed in the beauty of it
all.

Tower Gap (foreground) and Great Tower

From there, it’s plain sailing up a scrambly section
to finish. On reaching the summit plateau, it was great to think we’d done it, with
little preparation, no guidebook and no major epics. The summit was a calm,
civilised place; walkers strolling along and a touch of sunshine on the
plateau. We’d climbed the highest mountain in Britain, the weather had been good
all day and we could see for miles - southern Munros and Scottish islands in
view. For the sake of tradition, we shook hands on our success and took a summit photo.

First time on the Ben

It’s a fast descent from the top
of Ben Nevis along the pony track (despite
some falling over, trying to cut corners on the scree). Bombing down, alongside
other walkers, we found that we were racing. No one had agreed to race and no
one could let on that they were racing. But everyone was… Like the Tour de
France, or maybe the grand prix, you have to look for sly openings where you
can slip past, into pole position. On the final sprint for the Glen Nevis bar,
we found an opening and secured the number one spot. Absolute winner.

We met our friends at the pub, fellow Hiking Club members who’d scrambled up the Carn Mor Dearg arête. As I sank into a leather
sofa, chatting about the day’s events, a sense of achievement sank in also. I
felt the burn of wind and sun on my face, which meant I’d had a good day on the
mountain.

Scrambling up Tower Ridge, you’re flanked by a mass of rock
on the North Face. It’s a mountaineer’s playground. The scale of everything is
massive and you imagine bearded pioneers climbing in hobnail boots, trying new
lines of ascent. Or is it just me. Make the trip up there, if you haven’t
already.